Fear and Love (UC/CC/Adult) AN 04/19/08[WIP]

[Flamehair]

@Trude
I'm hoping that chapter will clear a bit of the confusion the last one gave you. Thank you for beta-ing

@ñusta
ah - but this is an alternative universe - nothing is like in the show

@imnotlc
thank you very much It's really nice to see a new reader

@all
I hope you like the new part

*********




later that evening


Isabel was back for a while now. After a two hour long ride she had taken a long warm bath and was now sitting comfortably on her bed, dressed in her fleecy sweat suit, a cup of hot chocolate beside her and a good book in her hands.

“Come in,” she said when she heard a soft knock at her door.

“Izzy?” Michael’s voice sounded insecure and shy.

“Yes?” His sister lifted up her head and saw him standing in her door, looking somehow lost. She smiled softly – somehow she had felt that he would come to her. So she shifted her body, pulling her legs up and crossing them to give him place and patted the mattress in front of her.

He took seat across from her, like her cross-legged in Indian-style. She waited patiently for him to speak.

“I’d like to ask you something, Izzy,” he finally said, his eyes directed to the mattress.

“Well, I’m all ear,” joked she slightly.

“Why do you and Max want me to become friend with that girl? If you think she needs friends – can’t you become friends with her?”

Isabel shrugged her shoulder. “You forget that I never supported Max in his idea. And I never said that I don’t want to be her friend – I just think she needs time with the cougars now and doesn’t yet need friends beside them. And Max – well, he hoped a friendship with Amarela – that’s her name by the way – would stop your brooding. “

“He can’t understand why I’m mourning, can he?” Michael lifted up his eyes to look at his sister, smiling weakly.

His golden-haired sister placed a hand on his leg. “It’s not that he don’t want to understand. But neither he nor I have ever fallen in love. So how can we comprehend your feelings – what you are going through?”

She shook her head and confessed something that astonished him. “You know – I always was a bit jealous of you. And I think Max too. You never were afraid to form a friendship with humans, to open up to them. I never could do that – I was always afraid that someone would look behind my façade and see what I really am.” A tear fell down her cheek, quickly followed by more.

Michael pulled her into a bear hug. “Oh Izzy, I never knew. But what did you think they would see? That you’re a loveable, kind and helpful person? Shouldn’t you know by now that we aren’t monsters?” He let go of her and placed his hand beneath her chin, tilting her head up to him so that their eyes locked.

A small smile was now playing on her lips and she sniffed once more.

“There you go,” he chuckled. “That suits you better.” Then an idea formed in the young man’s mind. “Could you show her to me – bring me into her dreams?”

Isabel furrowed her brows and nibbled at her lower lip. “I really don’t know, Michael. You know my gift works best with you or Max. But I can try.”

She lifted up her hands, showing him her palms and instructed. “Press your palms on mine and close your eyes.”

The younger brother obeyed, curious to see how his sister’s gift was working. Never before had she taken one of her siblings on such a journey with her.

“Now try to synchronize your breath with mine.”

The siblings were sitting like that for some minutes, despite their deep breaths in deep silence.

Isabel opened her eyes and found herself in the astral world. Like always, when she left her body, she felt a bit disoriented. The blonde woman looked around. Ah yes, there was Michael, looking even dizzier than she felt.

Now - where was Amarela's dream? She hoped it would look different than human's dreams, otherwise they could search forever. Normally she needed a picture or something belonging to the person she wanted to visit and then she just was in the dream. She never had tried it like that before.

There - wasn't there a place that seemed to shimmer golden? Certainly it looked strange - like nothing Isabel had ever seen before. Michael's eyes had followed hers.

"Is that hers?" he asked.

"Could be, I'm not sure," answered his older sister. She looked again at the place – it was difficult to say how far away it was. The astral world didn’t work like the normal world. What looked near could be far away and the other way round. She pursed her lips, thinking about her next steps, and then she outstretched her hand towards Michael. When she felt his hand enclosing hers she closed her eyes, concentrating.

A moment later she opened her lids again and they were standing right in front of that shimmering place. Isabel could see now that it was something like a wall, but somehow flowing, like made of water.

“Do you hear that?” asked Michael, stepping closer to the wall. Muted through the glimmering water flute-like tones could be heard as well as drumbeats now and then. It sounded very strange but fascinating and beguiling.

Hesitating the young man lifted up his hand and gently touched the wall. It gave way and his fingers sank in a bit. He pulled them back, looking to Isabel who had watched him. “It prickles,” he stated. “But the feeling is not unpleasant.”

She too tried now and dared to push her hand completely into the wall. She turned her head, smiling at her brother. “What you think? Shall we try?”

Michael nodded in agreement. “If it turns out to be dangerous we still have our powers, don’t we?” With bated breath he stepped a step forward, then a second and soon he was entirely swallowed from the wall.

“Michael?” Isabel asked, suddenly unsure. Then she could hear his voice in her mind. “It’s safe, Izzy – come.” His hand appeared in front of her eyes and she seized it.

Soon she had followed the way he had gone before and found herself standing beside Michael, half hidden behind a thin curtain that fluttered in a soft breeze, at the wall of a huge hall. She noticed that she was wearing a strapless dark-red evening gown and her brother a bronze-coloured tunic with slightly darker trousers.

Not far away from them was a table, almost covered with food that looked delicious and very exotic. A couple in colourful clothes was standing before the table, the man bending over slightly and picking up some of the deliciousnesses, placing them on the plate the women was holding.

"Do they see us?" whispered Michael, eyeing the alien beings.

Isabel shook her head. "No, they are only a kind of shades. It looks like Amarela is dreaming of something that she once experienced and this people belong to her memory."

She made a wavy gesture towards the hall. "All this people." Indeed the hall was almost crowded, some people were dancing, others standing in small groups and chatting.

“Where is she? Do you see her?” asked the young man his sister.

Isabel let her eyes wander over the assembled people and just wanted to shake her head; but then the music stopped and an older man, holding a long ornamented pole, announced something and the dancers started to choose new partners.

When the musicians on the balustrade began to play a new song the blonde woman finally saw Amarela, standing almost in the middle of the dance-floor with a brown-haired tall young man who was wearing a silky tunic in a dark yellow.

The girl wore a full-length gown in off-white with wide pleated and almost sheer sleeves. Over that gown she wore a sleeve-less over-gown in sea-blue that was open in the front, only held together with a brooch in flower-form at her chest. Some strands of her hairs were twisted atop of her head, the rest of her curls were flowing over her shoulders.

Amarela looked lovely, but much younger than Isabel remembered her. She was holding one end of a white scarf and the youngling the other end. Laughing they swirled around each other with the melody, one time dancing close to the other, then moving away again, almost like playing tag.

“She’s so young,” stated Michael, his gaze fixed fascinated on Amarela, feeling a slight sting of jealousy that he couldn’t explain when she smiled brightly at the young man she danced with. “No more than a child.”

Isabel had watched him, studying the changing expressions on his face. She chuckled softly. “I know her older – maybe two or three years. This must be an older memory of her, dear to her, that she still remembers it all so clearly.” She furrowed her brows and murmured. “At least she isn’t having a nightmare.”

Michael turned his head to her and regarded his sister confused and inquiring. “Why should she?”

She blushed slightly, but shrugged her shoulder. “Doesn’t matter.” What had happened to Amarela was too horrible and still shocked her. Certainly is wasn’t what Isabel wanted to talk about with any of her brothers.

Suddenly the scene changed and the siblings found themselves in a child’s room. A small girl – maybe four years old, but with that copper-red curls unmistakably Amarela – seemed to learn the same dance with a handsome man in his mid-thirties. He had the same hair colour and an amused but lovingly smile on his lips.

A slightly younger woman, heavy with child, sat in a chair near the two and was embroidering a cloth, lifting up her head now and then, smiling at her husband and her daughter.

“Have you seen enough, Michael?” whispered Isabel near his ear. “It’s better if we go now, otherwise it’s possible she will notice us.”

The young man nodded. “Yes, let’s go back.” He seized her hand and both closed their eyes.

Soon Isabel was feeling her soft mattress beneath herself and opened her eyes again.

Michael moaned when he was back in his body. In his head everything was spinning and his body felt like a herd of horses had stamped him to the ground.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he croaked and stood up, barely making it to Isabel’s bathroom.

She felt guilty when she heard him retch. She should have warned him; after all she had felt the same way after the first journey.

The young man was really looking pale when he tottered back into his sister’s room.

“Is it always that bad?” he asked, rubbing his temples.

“No, only the first time,” answered the young woman with a soft smile. “Do you want to talk?”

He shook his head and moaned again. “Sorry, but I think I go to sleep now. I feel like I could sleep for days.”

“Night Izzy,” he said when he opened her door. “Hope to see you in the morning.”

“Sleep well, little brother,” she whispered tenderly and lay down too, drifting off almost immediately.

[Flamehair]

Thanks for the feedback It's really appreciated. And I'm glad I can give you an update today


*****

10th June, at the cougar's


On his nocturnal walkabout through the house Raoul threw a searching look into all rooms, whose doors were only ajar. It was a rule with the cougars that a closed door was saying as much as “please do not disturb”.

He could not refrain a small chuckling, when he leaned at the doorframes to Amarela’s room. Amarela slept on the belly, hardly recognizably under her blankets and had put her left arm around the sulky old teddy bear that she had found during an excursion through the house in a crate where it had led a lonely existence. She whimpered quietly in her slumber, turned and pulled the toy nearer to herself, cuddling to in search for comfort.

“So childlike,” he thought. And yet her body was the body of a fully-grown woman according to the female cougars.

Soft steps rang out behind him and he smelled the light perfume made out of apple blossoms that Audrey preferred. She embraced him from the rear, pressed her body at his back and set her chin on his shoulder.

“Why do you laugh?“ She asked curiously and threw a look into the room. “Isn’t that sweet?” she said now smiling herself.

“You know what is really amusing?“ Raoul whispered with low voice. “I am perhaps 8 to 10 years older than her and feel like her father.”

„Who knows how old she really is. Well possible that she is still a child in the eyes of her people.”

„Or the stuffed animal gives her simply the necessary comfort for the moment.”

Audrey shrugged her shoulders. “Could be possible. But Diane believes that she isn’t yet completely mature. She told me that her internal injuries are so bad that her hymen is probably completely differently developed than with us humans. Not slightly opened but an impermeable barrier, which disappears at a certain age.“

„The poor small one.” Grief about his late intervention sounded in his voice. “No wonder then that her body reacted with this fierce fever.“ He put his hand over Audrey’s hand, which lay on his flat belly and turned his head a bit, so that he could see his brown-haired girlfriend. “With us she is safe now - we will give her a new home.”

Audrey breathed him a kiss on the cheek. “Come,“ she whispered then quietly.“ It’s sleeping time, for you too.”

Hand in hand, the two young humans walked to their room, which was not far away on the same floor.


******

the same time on Adrasc


The first rays of the rising sun let the last stars vanish and colored the sky in a golden blue when the woman climbed up the steep steps to temple hill. Just the green moon Dînwarteên that had been full the last night was still hanging low over the horizon.

Daieâke stopped to catch her breath. She lifted her head to see how far it was still and lifted up a hand to shield her eyes. The high portal marking the end of the stair was already to see; so she had passed two third of the stair.

Sure - she could have taken the path that wounded itself up the hill leisurely, passing the houses of the priesthood and their families – but then she was supposed to make polite conversation in case she was meeting someone on the way and for that she just wasn’t in the mood this morning. So she rather took the exhausting way.

After some minutes she arrived at the top of the stairs and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of the hand. It would be a hot day again; good thing she had decided to visit the temple this early in the morning.

On every other day she would have turned now and enjoyed herself for some moments at the sight of the capital, at the flashing of the high towers when they were met by the sun, at the white of the houses and the palaces, the blue sparkle of the lake and the blue-green glow of the island-settlement of the Dra’Ri, the water-dwellers, that was connected with the rest of the capital with an elegant bridge. But this time she didn’t allow herself that sight.

She headed to the left, where a small bathhouse stood and entered it, quickly undressing and immersing in the refreshing water. She gasped for breath when she emerged the pool again, but felt awake again. After she had rubbed herself dry with one of the towels, she dressed in a white simple garb. The ruler of Adrasc left the house barefoot and walked down the path to the temples.

****

An impressive statue stood in front of the temple that Daieâke neared. Surely up to 17 yards it showed the figure of a woman that had opened her arm inviting. The stony head of the goddess wore a crown and on each of its spikes a star seemed to float. Her flowing gown was painted in a dark blue as well as her cape. But this showed on its inner surface – visible because of the outstretched arms – a pattern of stars. Behind the statue extended the building of white marble that was entrusted to the dark mother.

Daieâke entered the house of remembrance through the gate at the feet of the statue. No one beside her was here at this early hour; even a priestess was nowhere to see. Inside the building she turned left and soon she was standing in the part of the temple where the urns of the royal family were kept.

She put the Jryâsti-flowers that she had held in her hand into the vase in front of Sîriol’s picture and touched it then gently with the tips of her fingers, took it finally into her hands and pressed a kiss at the cold glass. This made the niche with the daedal painted urn visible that was surrounded by dried flower petals and small notes with parting words from the children. She knew what was written on them; after all she had helped the boys to write down what they wanted to say. “I love you, Daddy.” “I miss you, Daddy.” “Where are you?” and so on.
She remembered the solemn little face of Amarela at the farewell party – how bravely she had braced herself.

The night after the party Daieâke was lying alone and forlorn in the now far too large bed, freezing despite the warm weather. Little by little the children had sneaked into her room and had crawled under her blanket, cuddling to their mother in search of comfort.

Finally Amarela as the oldest had plucked up the courage to ask the questions that bothered her and her siblings. “Doesn’t Daddy loves us anymore? Why has he left us?” asked she with little voice.

How could Daieâke explain death to the small ones, particularly when it had come so fast and unexpected? She explained them, that the Dark Mother loved their daddy very much too – so much that she didn’t want to be without him and wanted him to be with her. “Want Daddy,” Beîfedo sobbed, “Stupid lady has to give Daddy back” and finally the young widow too surrendered to her grief and couldn’t stop to cry for the next days.

Luckily her mother hadn’t returned yet to her house on the shores of the Fiteriêd -ocean and could take the daily palace-business into her hands.

“Oh Sîriol,” Daieâke sighed and her fingers followed the defined features of his face, absorbed his slight wryly smile (that he had bequeathed to Adhîldar), his leaf-green eyes and his copper-red, slightly waved, hair with her eyes. “Do you still remember us? Are you watching us really like the priests tell us?” She put the picture back at the cornice. “I still miss you, your humor and your advice. Never again I will tie the knot with another man. I just hope you don’t bear a grudge because of Kjetil? The solitude has just become too big with each year and somewhere along the way… But I couldn’t give him what he wanted und that’s why he had left me finally.”

She laughed incredulously. “Can you imagine that he had the impertinence to make promises for her ritual night to Amarela? My own daughter! She didn’t understand why I rejected the idea vehemently.” The woman closed her eyes for a short moment and visualized her oldest child. “Amarela – you wouldn’t recognize her anymore, my love. She’s already so grown-up now and eagerly awaiting her entry into the world of the adults. And now I fear so much for her, don’t know where she is. She’s alive – I would have felt her death like yours. But I have the dim feeling that something bad happened to her.”

Daieâke closed her eyes and remembered the pain she had felt when Sîriol had died. He had died on an ordinary day, doing ordinary things.

It had been a warm day; the air had been filled with the hum of the summer bugs that sipped at the blooming flowers. They had been in the park; Daieâke sitting with a fairytale-book on a bench, the boys right and left beside her and Sîriol and Amarela had played with a ball a little distance away

Suddenly the woman had felt a stinging pain in her head and her vision had become blurred. Damped – like she was under water – she had heard her daughter scream. Hands on her temples, she had looked up and saw Sîriol lying on the ground, Amarela kneeling sobbing beside him and shaking him. Other people who had been at the park were running towards the royal family, shouting for healers. But it had been to late – the healers had explained her later that Sîriol had no chance to survive the sudden blood clot in his brain.

Despite all the years that had passed since then, Daieâke was overcame again with grief and braced herself at the wall when she was bursting into tears.

“Can I help you, daughter?” The crystalline gentle voice of a Cea’Ri interrupted her sobs and made the mourner look up.

“Thank you,” Daieâke said weakly. “I just hoped to find some comfort here in the temple and… new strength to deal with Amarela’s disappearing.”

The Cea’Ri seized her hand and led the mother to a bench, sitting down with her. “Still no trace of her?”

“Alas no,” answered her ruler with a shake of her head. “It’s like her ship vanished in a black hole. But I’m sure she’s still alive. Just where… and how is she?”

“Don’t despair – I’m sure the gods are leading Amarela on her own path. And have you forgotten the prophecy at her birth, my daughter? ´She who will reign once will find her love at a place where no one would expect it.` Did you consider that now…. Maybe… it’s that time?” The priestess smiled softly.

“Yes – I know.” Daieâke whispered. “And its what’s giving me still some hope that she will return to us. But yet – Amarela is only seventeen, barely grown-up. It’s to early for her to find the love of her life. She should first enjoy her first rites, enjoy her youth and her life.”

The Cea’Ri chuckled. “Well, it’s not in our hands to prevent the fulfilment of a prophecy.” She placed a hand on the shoulder of the other woman and added with severity. “Have faith in Kjetil and your son– they will certainly find her. Your other children need you too and your people reckon on you. Don’t let your personal problems influence your regime.”

“Yes, you’re right – I really have neglected Aderï and Diaêdo in the last days. Thank you very much for the time you had for me. I’m feeling much better now.”

“Well,” said the priestess, standing up. “I’m glad I could help you. Remember, you’re always welcome here. And if you wish for me to come to your home – My name is Navra’atha.”

With a nod Navra’atha said goodbye and vanished in the depths of the temple, leaving behind a contemplative Daieâke.